The dark heroine of The Edge of Seventeen, on the other hand, only feels like she’s there, when in reality she’s a smart, pretty, comfortable-enough white girl living in suburban Portland, Oregon. Currently in cinemas, the exquisite Moonlight, in its difficult second segment, examines a teenage mind nearly smothered in doubt and despair, a kind of apocalyptic loneliness perhaps only known by people struggling to survive on the outer edges of their world. The Edge of Seventeen, for all its sprightly verve and wit, may be the best map of teen depression I’ve seen in a long time. But Craig’s script, and her subtly artful direction, favor the minor chords of these old melodies, digging under the obvious jokes to examine what animates them. (Opening November 18.) The film, from promising writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig, traverses familiar teen territory: an impossible crush, a prickly-lovable teacher-mentor, a mom who just doesn’t understand. That’s a fact evidenced beautifully in the entirely winning new teen dramedy The Edge of Seventeen, a funny, perceptive, and deceptively deep look at a high-school junior’s very bad couple of weeks. The formats for expressing it may have changed-diary to Facebook post, notes passed in class to anxious text messages-but teen angst remains mostly the same.
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